In Debt to Doubt

Today's post is the last in a series of stories and reflections from my time spent studying abroad in Central America. These are excerpts from my memoir in progress; stories that have shaped me, shattered my pretenses and preset beliefs, and sculpted the way I live and love and encounter God today. I hope in some small way, you can relate and be challenged to reflect more deeply on the experiences that have influenced you and your faith.

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In Debt to Doubt

“Most early ‘God talk’—without self-knowledge and inner journey—is largely a sincere pretense, even to the person who consciously believes the language. The miracle of grace and true prayer is that they invade the unconscious heart and mind (where our real truth lies)—and thus really change us!” ~Adapted from Richard Rohr, Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality

When I came back from study abroad, I didn’t know how to be me anymore. I didn’t know how to be anything real, except real angry.

At first I told everyone I knew about the things I had learned: the poverty and desperation, the culpability of the United States and the ambivalence of the church, the overwhelming consumerist culture and apathy of Americans. Since I hadn’t been eased into these new ideas in my study abroad program, I didn’t know how to lace my discoveries with grace. The time I used to spend confessing and listening to others, turned into a time of full-fledged assaults on anyone who would listen. I discovered that no one wanted to hear about garbage dumps and international trade agreements. They wanted to hear that I had learned a lot Spanish, visited a lot of places, and, most importantly, had a lot of fun. At first I was angry that no one cared. Small talk conversations with people from church and school left my cheeks flushed and burning, and my heart empty.

I eventually stopped talking. Stopped sharing. Stopped trying.

I meticulously planned my insurrection. I would go to chapel and Bible study, so no one would catch on that I didn’t give a shit. I would share just enough to allow my friends to believe that they were getting the whole story. I lied. I lived selfishly. I imploded.

I used to view this time as a rebellion. As a conscious choice to screw the world and do whatever the hell I wanted. Since then, I’ve been heartbroken for the pain I caused and relationships I fractured with my biting words and calculated lies.

But despite the heartache, I still find myself grateful for this time. Recently a friend called my reaction to my study abroad program as not so much a rebellion, but a rational rejection of two faulty ideologies: that either God only cares about me living up to a certain set of rules so that he can bless me or God only cares about the poor and hates me if I don’t sell everything I have and live in poverty, too. Ideologically, I’ve found a middle ground, which has allowed me to keep more friends and lose less sleep. But the real value of my “rebellion,” of this rejection of all I had known and known myself to be, was that in this darkness, in this absence of pretense and preset rules, I experienced God.

The Living, All-Powerful God.

My semester abroad abolished all pretenses for me in relationship with God, in my faith, in my identity and my role in the world. My rejection of the known started me on a journey of self-knowledge and brought me to grace and true prayer. I am grateful for the questions I was encouraged to ask. For the anger that sparked honesty. For the breakdown that allowed Love to build me back up.

I’m still shaky on my exact theology and Bible interpretations. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Love is something I’ve experienced. I have a hard time celebrating Jesus’ work on the cross. I don’t really get why we glorify something so gruesome, so awful. I don’t really understand the atonement or who’s supposed to be going to heaven or hell.

But I can celebrate Jesus’ work in my own life. I can celebrate the grace I’ve been given. The freedom I’ve found.

And for this experience of Love, I owe a debt to doubt and to the One who taught me He can more than handle my questions. 

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Have you ever gone through a period of extreme doubt or rebellion in your life? How did you handle it? What did you learn from it? Do you feel comfortable with your doubts now?

2 Reasons I Returned to Church: How a Scoffer Experienced Christ through Prophecy

I never thought I would write about, much less champion, prophetic ministry. I've always been skeptical, cynical, pragmatic. 

For a long time, I didn't think God could, or would, speak to me. Doesn't He have better things to do?

I doubted the stories of prophecy and healing miracles I heard from friends in small groups, on email chains. I cringed suspiciously when churchgoers would explain, without a hint of doubt, how God had definitively and unmistakably spoken to them. 

I just wasn't buying it. 

Until I tasted, touched, and lived God's transformational, prophetic words in my own life. 

Rachel Held Evans recently posted 15 reasons why she left the church and a follow up 15 reasons why she returned.  I can boil the reasons behind my prodigal return down to two: 

Hope and a heart for justice. 

When I first visited the Vineyard Church that I now attend, I was struck by the heartbeat of justice that seemed to pulse through the congregation. At the time, I could have cared less about Jesus or daily devotionals or small group prayer time; but I cared deeply about serving the poor, fighting injustice, and living intentionally, compassionately. 

And that's what I saw in this church: men and women doing meaningful things--making friends with people who live outside, caring for the environment, learning how they could spend less money on themselves so that they could give more to those in need. 

I couldn't get enough. This passion for justice struck a chord so deep within me that I kept coming back. I keep coming back. 

The other thing I experienced in church was hope. 

It takes an immense amount of hope to work for social justice, to believe that things can change. 

In my church community, I found people who lived like there was a God who reconciles all things. They had hope for our world here and now. They had hope for me. 

They shared this hope with me through prophetic ministry. I know it sounds weird, or foreign, and you may be writing me off like I once did to the miracle junkies in my life. But please just give a minute to explain. 

The Vineyard Church describes the heart behind prophetic ministry, "We believe God speaks in many ways and often speaks to encourage people and release his heart to them and point them towards their destiny. Prophetic sounds a little mystical but is a way for followers of Jesus to give voice to what God is doing or wanting to do in the lives of others.  We believe that God works in us through a still small voice and if we listen that we can use the prophetic ministry to encourage others that God is working in and around their lives."

I don't really know how it works or why it works, but I do know that my church friends encouraged me to experience God--and I did. They opened my eyes to see God's face; they opened my ears to hear God's voice. 

I know not everyone can relate to this. There can be a lot of pain and confusion in feeling like you're on the outside. I also know that God loves you. That God wants to speak to you and be known by you. That just because you can't feel Him or see Him now, doesn't mean He's not there. 

My pastor once said, "Your area of deepest doubt can become an area of your deepest worship." 

So whatever it is you doubt the most, whatever it is that has made you leave the church or doubt the Church or your faith-filled friends, I'd encourage you to stay in it. Look for God even in your doubt, even in the places you are certain He won't show up.  

I pray today that you be given eyes to see and ears to hear Love Himself in your life--through whatever voice or vision or feeling that resonates with you. 

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Curious about these visions? Tomorrow I’ll share more about a prophetic vision that continues to shape me, challenge me, and draw me closer to God. 

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Do you have any experiences of doubt-turned-to-worship? I’d love to hear them.